


Reflections Of...

by MisMiz (Jaaaaack51)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Angry Kissing, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drinking to Cope, Emotional Hurt, Friends to Lovers, Guilt, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pre-Slash, Sexual Content, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:26:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6353425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaaaaack51/pseuds/MisMiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buck wallows in guilt and whisky. Chris's intervention doesn't go quite as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reflections Of...

REFLECTIONS OF...

Chris Larabee paused just outside the boarding house and stood staring at the drab wooden building with a frown on his face. Taking off his black hat, he ran impatient fingers through his short blond hair. Then, shaking his head, he sighed, pushed open the door, and walked rapidly inside.

"Evening Ma'am." The gunslinger nodded politely to the middle aged woman just entering the room, but he didn't break stride. So intent was he on reaching the stairs at the far end that he failed to register her rather wary return greeting. Not that he would have cared overly much. Chris was used to respectable women not knowing what to make of him.

He climbed to the second floor landing and began walking down the long, narrow hallway until he came to the last door on the left. Letting out another sigh, he raised a fist preparatory to pounding on the door to demand entrance, then abruptly he lowered it. Reaching out instead, he grasped the doorknob and twisted. The door swung open easily and he stepped into the room.

"I don't recall inviting anyone." Buck said, not even bothering to open his eyes and see who it was. 

Chris closed the door quietly behind him and moved a little further into the room. He paused to place his hat on the small table to his right then made his way over to the foot of the bed, staring down at the bed’s occupant. Despite the seemingly careless sprawl, Buck’s shoulders radiated tension. There was a bottle of whisky cradled beside him and Chris's gaze noted that it was still half full. Good. Maybe Buck wasn't too far gone to listen then.

"You must have not heard me real clear. I said I aint in the mood for company." Buck's voice was cold, lacking any semblance of its usual good humor. He opened his eyes, frowning, when there was still no response.

"I heard you. Just aint listening to you, is all." Chris said calmly, meeting Buck’s angry gaze.

"Go away, Chris." Buck pointedly turned his face away from the gunslinger.

"Can't do that, Buck." Chris shook his head and walked over to grab the straight-backed chair by the window and drag it to the side of the bed. 

"Sure you can, Chris. It's easy. You just put one foot in front of the other and keep going. Right on out the door." Buck rolled over and sat up, glaring and clutching the bottle of whisky in one hand while his other hand pointed in the general direction of the door.

Ignoring the sarcastic remark, Chris sat down in the chair and stretched his long legs out. Folding his arms, he studied his friend quietly. A hint of compassion flickered in the green eyes, and when he finally spoke, a hint of it could be found in his voice, as well.

"There was nothing else you could have done, Buck. She would've killed you without batting an eyelash. And the banker, too. And God knows who else she might have killed before she was through. There was nothing else you could have done." Chris repeated, but he could see the other man wasn't listening, whisky or no whisky. Buck didn't want to be absolved for this crime, but Chris wasn't going to indulge him any longer.

"You don't know that, Chris. And I don't know that, either. She could have been bluffing.” Buck lifted the bottle of whisky to his lips, swiping angrily at the drops of liquid that remained behind on his mustache.

"She wasn't bluffing." Miriam Callahan had been trouble with a capital T. Buck just couldn't accept that a woman was capable of being a stone cold killer for no reason other than the fact that she enjoyed it.

"And Mr. High and Mighty Larabee is speaking from the mound, now? Knows everything? Sees everything?" Buck sneered and raised the bottle of whisky again, blue eyes dark with pain.

Chris tightened his lips and shook his head. "I don't know everything, Buck. But I do know a killer when I see one." 

"Yeah," Buck snorted. "Like you knew about Ella."

Chris clenched his fists and reminded himself that Buck was hurting and lashing out at everyone. But he could feel his own anger begin to simmer beneath the surface. That goddamn Callahan bitch hadn't been worth the spit it took to swallow, let alone Buck's seemingly endless supply of guilt and remorse.

"That was different." Chris replied evenly, slowly unclenching his fists.

"Different cause it was _you_ sleeping with her instead of me?" Buck curled his lip and stared challengingly at the gunslinger.

"This isn’t about me and Ella. This is about you and your goddamn stupid, pointless guilt."

"It aint pointless to me. And you're a fine one to be talking. Three years have gone by and you still can't let go." 

"Damn you. Leave Sarah and Adam out of this." Chris's green eyes glittered with true anger now.

"You don't like what I'm saying, get out. Last time I checked this was still my room." Buck waved the bottle of whisky in the direction of the doorway.

Quick as a snake, Chris reached out and snatched the bottle of whisky from Buck's grasp. Surging to his feet, he flung it against the wall where it shattered, sending a spray of glass and amber liquid everywhere.

"You goddamn bastard." Now it was Buck's turn to surge to his feet and the two men stood, close enough to feel each angry breath, fists clenched at their sides.

"Find some other way of dealing with this, Buck. Some way that doesn't interfere with doing your job." Chris turned on his heel to leave, not trusting himself to say anything more.

"I can't believe even you would have balls enough to say something like that. You goddamn hypocrite." Buck grabbed the back of Chris's black shirt and jerked him back around, shifting his grip so that he now held one of the gunslinger's arms.

"Let go of me, Buck." Chris's temper was hanging on by a bare thread.

 "Make me." Buck yanked on Chris's arm for emphasis just as the gunslinger attempted to twist out of his grasp. The two men went down in a tangle of arms and legs. They thrashed around on the floor, cursing, arms and legs flailing wildly. Buck finally managed to gain the upper hand after a short, but vicious, struggle, and rolled the gunslinger over onto his back. He straddled Chris, using his knees to pin the other man's arms, and just stared down into Chris's furious green eyes, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

 "Looks like you can't make me do shit, huh pard?" Buck laughed, part of him delighting in the pain and fury he saw in Chris's eyes. He knew he was acting like a real prize SOB, but the red hot pain and anger in his gut wouldn't let him feel sorry for it. Chris hadn't been able to bring himself to shoot that goddamn bitch, Ella, while Miriam had died by a bullet from Buck's own gun, in his arms. Chris had no right coming in here and acting like Buck was making too much of it. Like it was no big thing. Buck had never killed a woman before. Especially not one he'd shared a bed with only hours before he'd killed her. 

"I'll make you sorry you were ever born." Chris promised, glaring up at him.

"You can try." Buck replied, pressing his weight more heavily into the gunslinger’s midsection. "But not before I tell you what a bastard you are, coming in here and telling me all that crap."

"You remember what it was like, Chris? Ella telling you she loved you? Pressing her warm body against you? Putting her soft lips on yours?" Buck leaned forward and lowered his head as he spoke, until his mouth hovered near Chris's ear. Then he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Now imagine her warm blood soaking your skin and her lips cold and lifeless. And imagine that it was your bullet that brought all that about."

 Chris shivered as Buck's warm breath tickled his ear. He didn't want to think about the images conjured up by the other man's words. He'd never told anyone about the dreams he had where he shot Ella as she rode away and watched her fall to the ground at his feet, dead. And when he awoke, he was never certain if he was sorry because it had been just a dream and she wasn't dead or if he was sorry because in the dream he'd killed her after all. 

"Buck..." He started to speak, then fell silent, uncertain as to what exactly it was that he wanted to say. 

"She had the softest skin. Like silk." Chris flinched slightly in surprise as Buck sat back up and ran a finger down the side of Chris’s neck. 

"Buck...?' He tried again.

"And her lips were sweet as honey." Buck ran his thumb lightly over the gunslinger's lips as he spoke, ignoring Chris's strangled gasp.

Buck's voice was low, seductive, and he stared down at Chris with an unreadable expression. The gunslinger felt a trickle of warmth begin in his belly as Buck gently stroked his jaw. He could feel the heat of the larger man's body burning through their layers of clothes and a sense of panic clawed its way through him, along with the warmth. He began struggling again, trying to get away.

"Why are you in such a hurry all of a sudden, Chris?" Buck's lips were near his ear again and Chris was unable to repress another shiver as Buck's mustache tickled his skin.

"Don't..." Chris said, turning his head to the side, trying to avoid the other man's touch.

"I haven't done anything yet, pard." Buck trailed his lips across the gunslinger's ear, sliding them along his jaw until he reached the corner of Chris's mouth. 

Chris let out an involuntary groan as Buck licked lightly along the edges of his lips, one hand sliding up to tangle itself in Chris's hair. 

"No." Chris was still trying to resist the unexpected feelings of pleasure Buck was causing with every touch.

 "Yes." Buck whispered, covering Chris's lips with his own. He splayed his fingers out across the back of Chris's head, cradling it as he continued to explore the gunslinger's mouth with his lips, his tongue. Buck's other hand was tugging at the gunslinger's shirt, freeing it from his pants.

Chris tried to marshall his thoughts, regain control. He didn't know how the hell he and Buck had gone from shouting and cursing and trying to black each other's eyes to... this. They shouldn't be doing this. He didn't want to do this. Except he did. He didn't know if it was because all that anger and frustration needed an outlet. Any outlet. Or whether Buck just had goddamn magic powers. But whatever the reason, Chris was on the verge of surrendering to it, consequences be damned.

Buck lifted his lips from the gunslinger's and moved down, sliding along the length of Chris's body until his face was on a level with Chris's chest. Then he skimmed both hands lightly up and down Chris's sides a few times, before sliding them up to the first button of the gunslinger's black shirt. When Buck began to slowly unbutton the shirt, Chris closed his eyes, not ready to bear witness to his own surrender or see it reflected back at him in Buck's eyes.

Buck shifted his weight, freeing Chris's hands, as he lowered his head to nip teasingly at Chris’s neck, palms again stroking lightly up and down the gunslinger's sides. Buck’s hands were warm against his bare skin and Chris brought his own hands up to clutch convulsively at his companion's shoulders, biting his lip to stifle the sounds trying to escape. He could feel the hardness of Buck's cock against his thigh as the other man pressed closer. He could feel his own cock, undeniably hard. For Buck. Goddamn, he could even taste Buck on his tongue still. The taste of whisky and heat. He opened his eyes. Chris Larabee was no coward. if they were going to do this then he was damned well going to do it with his eyes wide open. He slid his own hands down Buck's shoulders, and across his back. The thin cotton material of Buck's shirt was warm from his body and damp with sweat. Chris rucked the shirt up, wanting to feel bare skin beneath his fingers. 

"Buck." A moan escaped him as he felt Buck's slick, warm skin beneath his fingers, but the man in question jumped like he'd been shot when he felt Chris's fingers on his bare skin, heard Chris's voice say his name. He rolled quickly off the gunslinger and sat up, scrubbing his hand across his lips, and shaking his head from side to side.

"Buck?" Chris lay there, still feeling slightly dazed from events. When Buck didn't answer, Chris slowly sat up, staring at Buck through eyes that were rapidly regaining focus.

"I didn't... I wasn't... It..." Buck stopped, then took a deep breath and tried again. 

Chris didn't say a word, just continued staring at him, face now impassive. Only the still too rapid breathing was any indication that something out of the ordinary had transpired.

"I was mad. At you. At me. At her." Buck looked down at his hands, unable to meet Chris's eyes.

"And you wanted to punish me, since I'm here and she's not. And punishing yourself gets old after a while. I should know." Chris twisted his lips in a humorless smile.

"Yeah. I reckon it was something like that." Buck raised his eyes to glance at the gunslinger. He flinched when he saw Chris's bare chest, still revealed by the shirt Chris hadn't yet buttoned. Chris shrugged slightly in response, eyes gone cold and flat.

"You know, I never really believed all those stories you used to tell about growing up in a whorehouse." Chris got to his feet and raked his gaze up and down the other man's disheveled figure. "Now I do." Buttoning his shirt, Chris turned and slowly walked over to the door. He did not look back as he left the room.

Buck continued to sit on the floor for long moments after Chris had left the room. He had wanted to punish Chris and succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. So why was he sitting here in the middle of the floor, feeling lower than a snake's belly and with an ache in his cock that was almost as bad as the one in his chest? 

The End


	2. The Way Life Used to Be...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buck decides he and Chris need to talk it out. After all, talking is one of the two things he does best.

THE WAY LIFE USED TO BE...

"Feeling like your old self, I see." Chris Larabee's voice contained a hint of scorn as his green gaze raked across Buck, sitting slouched at a table near the bar, and the saloon girl draped across his lap.

"What else do you see?" Buck retorted, an edge in his voice. "Something you want, maybe?" 

Chris slowly surveyed the pair, eyes cool and hard. "The only thing I see that looks good is that whisky." He pointed to the bottle on the table, lips curling derisively. 

Buck scowled, sitting up straight,and causing the saloon girl on his lap to fall precariously forward. 

"You aint got no call saying that, Chris. I think you owe Miss…uh…” Buck fumbled for a moment. “this young lady here an apology." 

"Sorry, Miss." Chris said, his eyes never leaving Buck's face. "I wasn't talking about you." As apologies went, it left much to be desired, but the lady in question wasn't about to quibble over it. Sliding off of Buck's lap, she nodded nervously to the two men and then hurried over to a lonesome looking cowboy a few tables down. He might lack Buck's easy charm and good looks, but he didn't have Chris Larabee looming over him with blood in his eye, either.

"You're a goddamn liar, Chris." Buck slapped his hands on the table, causing more than a few nearby patrons to jump.

"Go to hell, Buck." Chris hissed the words, ignoring the curious stares and attention their altercation was beginning to attract.

"You can't make me do anything, Chris. Remember? And I got other plans for today. Now, if you'll excuse me." Buck rose to his feet and stepped towards Chris, who stood blocking the way.

"Get out of the way, Chris." Buck snapped angrily.

"Make me." Chris's smile was taunting. 

Excuse me, gentlemen. I do believe our young sheriff needs your help at the jail, Mr. Larabee. A recalcitrant prisoner of some sort." Ezra's smooth, unruffled drawl broke the icy tension between the two men. With one final glare at Buck, Chris turned on his heel and strode toward the door. Ezra watched the lean black-clad figure disappear and then turned back to Buck.

"Do you enjoy living dangerously, Buck? With Mr. Larabee's uncertain temper the past few weeks, I do believe you would be safer baiting a grizzly. I can arrange to have Vin go track one down if you like. For the right price, of course.” Ezra’s smirk faded into a thoughtful frown as Buck didn’t even glance his way, still too busy staring after Chris.

"Real funny, Ez." Buck finally muttered, pushing past the gambler and stalking out the door of the saloon, going in the opposite direction from the gunslinger.

"Well, I thought it to be a rather amusing little remark." The gambler murmured. "Not one of my most polished, perhaps, but..."

"Talking to yourself again, Ezra? You know they got a name for people who do that." Nathan walked up behind the other man and slid into Buck's now vacant chair.

"The name would be 'cruelly deprived of civilized company' my friend. My compatriots just do not appreciate my sophisticated humor and clever wit." 

Nathan rolled his eyes. "We would if you actually had either one of those." 

Now it was the gambler's turn to roll his eyes heavenward as he slid into the chair opposite Nathan. "What in Heaven's name do you think ails our two compatriots anyway? They seem to be perpetually on the verge of killing one another these past two weeks."

"Don't know, exactly, but Buck and Chris have known each other a long time and there's a lot of water under those bridges. I say we mind our own business and let them work it out between themselves." 

"Work what out?" JD hurried up to the table, letting out a sigh of relief as he pulled up a chair next to Ezra.

"Our two associates, Mr. Larabee and Mr. Wilmington, appear to be having some sort of problem with one another." Ezra volunteered.

"Tell me about it!" JD exclaimed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "I thought Chris was gonna shoot Buck the other day after Buck said something about a prisoner getting the punishment he deserved. And Buck has been acting weird, too. Going out of his way to antagonize Chris, it seems like." JD shook his head, perplexed. "What do you think is the matter with them?"

Nathan sighed.

*******************************************************************

Goddamn Chris Larabee, anyway. Buck strode angrily down the dusty street, his normally genial countenance stormy enough to cause everyone he encountered to give him a wide berth.

How the hell did you fix things, put them back the way they used to be? He and Chris were going to wind up killing each other if they didn’t settle things between them. Sometimes, Buck thought that might be the easiest solution. Then he wouldn't be able to still feel Chris's lips on his or still hear the way Chris had moaned beneath him. Buck wanted to wreck Chris until all he could do was moan Buck’s name. Buck wanted… well he wanted Chris. And he wasn’t sure there was any going back from that.

Even worse than thinking these things about a man who'd been your friend for a dozen years, a man whose wedding you attended and whose son you'd held, was knowing that Chris was thinking the same things about him. And knowing that he hated Buck for it.

If Buck was going to be fair, he'd have to admit he deserved Chris hating him some. Using someone's body against them like that was just plain wrong and it wasn't something Buck had ever done before. But lately, he'd been doing a lot of things he'd never done before. He'd killed his first woman, kissed his oldest friend, and pretty near ruined the friendship between him and Chris for good this time. Maybe he should go rob the nearest bank or something. Just to round out his week.

Buck sighed and slowed his pace a bit, his anger wearing off and a weary remorse taking its place. He could still feel the burden of guilt and regret over Miriam Callahan weighing on him. He suspected she was something he'd carry to the end of his days. But he could live with that. It had surprised him how little time it had taken him to come to that conclusion. When Chris had come to his room two weeks ago, Buck had been feeling like the pain would never go away, the guilt and sorrow would just eat him up from the inside out. 

And then after the thing with Chris... Thing? Buck snorted. That didn't even come close to saying it the way it was, but he didn't know what else to call it. He could remember sitting on the floor for a good long while after the gunslinger had left, thinking that maybe this would finally be enough and he'd just drop dead from the guilt and pain. Kind of hoping he would. Instead, he'd crawled into a bottle for the next two days, alternating between thoughts of Miriam and thoughts of Chris. And when he finally woke up on the third day, so hung over he couldn't even lift one of the empty bottles next to his bed, he'd realized that he'd spent far more time thinking about Chris than he had about Miriam.

He'd thought a lot about the way Chris had sounded. Every reluctant moan sweeter than music to his ears. Thought about the way Chris had clutched his shoulders, fingers digging in painfully even as he surrendered. Thought about Chris’s mouth, the hard stubborn lips suddenly pliant beneath his own. And then he'd thought about how Chris had walked out the door without a backward glance when it was all over. And he'd thought about what a right bastard Chris could be and how Buck wouldn't feel bad, dammit. He wouldn’t. And then he'd wished that Chris was there with him and thought about how this time it wouldn't be about punishment and pain, it would be about pleasure. And then he'd gotten angry all over again because goddammit, the sonofabitch wasn't there like Buck wanted. And then he'd drank some more. And some more. Until he'd no longer been able to think.

And then Josiah and JD had come knocking on his door and they'd cleaned him up and brought him some coffee and he'd finally realized that maybe he could put his feelings for Miriam in perspective. Because he'd rather lose her again a thousand times than lose any of his friends even once. And she'd been a cold blooded, crazy bitch, just like Chris had said. Buck just hadn't wanted to believe it. She'd been so sweet in his arms, so warm. But it wasn't the memory of her that had made his cock hard as a nail the past two weeks. Nope. It was Chris Larabee that had done that. Goddamn him anyway. Had he already said that? Didn't matter. It was worth repeating.

So what to do now? He and Chris had been wrangling like a couple of alley cats ever since that night. Buck couldn't seem to help himself. He kept pushing Chris, trying to see how far he could take it. And Chris was no better. It was like picking at a wound just so you could watch it bleed. There was something fascinating about it. And you never gave any thought to how much it might hurt until after you'd already done it.

Buck kicked at a rock in his path. He didn't have any answers. He didn't even know what he wanted. Well, maybe he knew what he wanted, but he didn't know what he wanted to do about it. Sighing, he glanced up at the building next to him. The livery stable. He sighed again as he saw Vin rounding the corner just ahead. The quiet tracker couldn’t be more different from Buck and had settled into an effortless sort of friendship with Chris almost immediately. And hadn’t that stung more than a little if Buck was being honest with himself?

“Bucklin.” Vin nodded as he approached and then came to a stop, forcing Buck to either stop or shove past him. Buck stopped and nodded in return. Whatever Vin wanted, he hoped it would be quick. 

“You going to talk to Chris and get things settled before one of you does something you’ll both regret?” Vin ’s stance was relaxed, but Buck could see the determination on his face. He would have his say.

“Me? Why me?” Buck’s protest was automatic. He knew why. Because hell would freeze over before Chris Larabee backed down. Chris was more stubborn than a mule.

“Because Chris is as stubborn as a mule.” Vin replied, echoing Buck’s thought. “And whatever is between the two of you has got him plenty riled up. I know it aint my business but the two of you have been friends a long time. Maybe you ought to think about that.” With those final words, Vin shrugged and pushed past Buck, heading in the direction of the saloon.

Buck stood there for several long minutes, thinking about it. Why the hell _didn’t_ he just talk to Chris? Talking was one of the things he did best after all. And he just wouldn't think about what else he did best until after he and Chris had worked things out. Vin was right.They’d been friends too long to leave things this way between them. And if Chris didn't like it, that was just too damn bad.

Pushing open the door of the livery, he walked inside and began saddling his horse.

****************************************************

Goddamn Buck, anyway. Chris stalked angrily out of the jail and onto the boardwalk. The tussle with the obstinant prisoner had barely taken the edge off his anger and his lean body still vibrated with frustration. Chris knew he shouldn't have said anything to Buck. It was none of his business if Buck chose to take up with one of the working gals. But the sight of her sitting draped across Buck's lap had caused an unpleasant knot of rage to form in his gut. And he'd gone stalking over there, shooting his mouth off like an idiot. A goddamn jealous idiot. And then to have Buck _know_. Know that Chris still wanted him. It was too much. Why the hell couldn't things be like they used to? Back when he could look Buck in the eye and not remember the warm, hard feel of his body or the hot, whisky flavored taste of his mouth.

Chris spent far too much time remembering that night. He wanted to forget it. That way he wouldn't have to keep admitting to himself how much he wanted his oldest friend to touch him. Lying in bed, hard as a rock, and clenching his teeth against the desire to give himself some relief, or even worse, go beg Buck to do it, was getting real tiresome. He thought about maybe visiting one of the working gals but somehow he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it just yet. So he tossed and turned and didn’t get much sleep. His temper had taken a definite turn for the worse as a result. Even the quiet, tolerant tracker had taken to avoiding him lately. Poor JD nearly jumped out of his skin every time he saw Chris coming towards him. And he couldn't seem to be within a hundred feet of Buck without the two of them having words. They'd nearly come to blows again a few times. Something had to give, before he and Buck wound up killing each other. But hell, they might be doing the town a favor if they did that. Or at least, he might be doing himself one, anyway. Death had to be easier than life, that was for damn sure.

So what the hell did you do in a situation like this one? His oldest friend. Who had known, and loved, Adam and Sarah. Who had seen Chris at his best and at his worst. It was damn humiliating to know that Buck had so easily used Chris’s own body against him like that. Buck had heard his moans and tasted his skin and felt his need and Chris wasn't sure he'd ever forgive Buck for that. But it didn't stop Chris from wanting him. Goddamn him anyway. 

He'd just have to get over it, he told himself grimly. He and Buck still had to work together and this bad blood between them was starting to affect that. And he knew the others were wondering about the cause of it. Well, Chris would rather burn in hell for eternity than have any of them know. He could hardly stand to know himself. Sighing, Chris walked over to the livery and saddled his horse. Maybe a few hours out at his homestead would do him some good. That, and the bottle of whisky he had tucked into his saddlebag.

**********************************************************************

"About damn time you showed up." Buck looked up from the chair where he'd been sitting, leaning back against the wall, and greeted the gunslinger.

"I don't recall inviting you." Chris replied bitingly, in an unconscious echo of the night he'd gone to Buck's room.

"Uninvited guest suits me just fine." Buck shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, it don't suit me. Get out." Chris ordered, unbuckling his gun belt and hanging it on a peg near the door. Removing temptation.

"Make me." 

Chris whirled around, green eyes glowing with anger. "Don't start with me, Buck."

"Seems to me I already did. I started something that night, two weeks ago and it seems to me it's only right that I finish it." Buck got slowly to his feet and Chris saw that Buck had removed his gunbelt, as well. It lay on the table between them. In easy reaching distance, Chris noted wryly.

"We already finished it. I don't aim to do it again." Chris shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up on a peg near his gunbelt, gazing coolly at Buck.

"I don't think it was finished to anyone's satisfaction." Buck began walking towards Chris, skirting the table and coming over to stand just a few feet in front of the gunslinger.

"I thought you got all the satisfaction you needed." Chris refused to allow himself to back away. He wasn't a damn coward. And Buck was standing too far away for Chris to feel the warmth of his body. It was just his imagination, that was all.

"Nope." Buck closed the gap between them and reached out to run his fingers along Chris's jaw. 

"How much more satisfaction do you think I should give you?" Chris was truly angry now. He didn't know why Buck was doing this, but he knew the other man knew he wanted it and that infuriated him.

“That’s up to you.” Buck dropped his hand and gazed steadily at Chris.

”How about this much then?" Grabbing Buck's head roughly between his hands, Chris pulled the other man close in a bruising kiss. Buck clutched tightly at Chris’s hips and kissed him back with equal force. 

"Or maybe you think there should be more than that, too?” Chris lifted his lips from Buck's long enough to say while sliding his hands down until they rested on Buck’s shoulders. 

He tore the other man's shirt free of its buttons without waiting for a reply and slid it impatiently off Buck’s shoulders and onto the floor.

Chris lowered his head and trailed kisses along Buck’s collarbone, hands skimming restlessly everywhere they could reach. He flicked his tongue lightly over one nipple and Buck shivered. 

"Have I done enough yet?" Chris whispered raggedly, wondering what in the hell he'd do if Buck said yes. Somewhere along the way, his anger had been swallowed up by his need.

"No. I reckon there's more you could do." Buck gasped, his voice as ragged as Chris's had been.

"I was hoping you'd say that." Chris stepped back and began removing his own shirt. After a few seconds, Buck bent and began pulling off his boots. 

"You offering or just teasing?" Chris came up quietly behind Buck as he was pulling off his remaining boot, and brushed his hand across Buck's ass. 

Buck straightened up and turned to face Chris. "I... I aint sure." he finally said. He knew Chris had been with a man or two in his wild youth and Buck had both given and gotten the occasional suck job from a passing cowboy here and there but that was the extent of it. Until now. Buck didn’t want to start this out making promises he couldn’t keep.

Chris just nodded and began pulling off his own boots, sitting down in a chair to do it. Buck hesitated for a moment, watching him, and then walked over to kneel in front of the gunslinger.

"You need some help?" Buck looked up at Chris, one eyebrow cocked in question.

Chris didn't answer, just leaned down and ran a finger over the other man's chest, circling his nipples. Buck swallowed and began tugging at the gunslinger's boots. When he had them both off, tossed carelessly under the table, he looked up at Chris again.

"I helped you. Now I think it's only fair you help me." Buck stood up and hooked his fingers in the waistband of his pants suggestively. 

"Fair's fair, I guess." Chris murmured, getting to his feet and placing his hands next to Buck's. Slowly he began unbuttoning the pants, sliding them over the hips and down the long legs of the other man before tossing them to one side once they were off. Sinking down on his knees, Chris wrapped his hands around Buck’s hips and rubbed his cheek against one hipbone before sliding down to lick along the inside of a thigh. Buck whimpered and swayed a bit on his feet.

"I think they're off now, Chris." Buck moaned as Chris nipped lightly at his thigh. The gunslinger's hand brushed teasingly across his cock and Buck reached down to grasp a handful of short, blond hair. "I'm beginning to think this aint entirely fair." he gasped out.

"Is that a complaint?" Chris stopped what he was doing and rose from his knees, to stand facing the other man.

"You know it aint." Buck snapped, irked that Chris had stopped touching him.

"Well then..." Chris brought his hand up to run it lightly over the other man's shoulder and down his back. His back was slick and warm and this time there was no shirt in the way. 

"I don’t aim to be the only one with no pants on, Chris. Take them off.” Buck arched his back, pressing closer.

"Demanding, aren't you?" Chris smiled slowly and pulled away, unbuttoning his tight black pants and watching Buck watch him.

"Can be." Buck replied shortly, already reaching out to pull the gunslinger against him the second his pants had been kicked aside. This feeling of wanting to just touch Chris plain and simple was a lot stronger than the desire to punish Chris had been that first night. Buck found it a bit frightening. And he suspected Chris was now learning the same thing. He may have started out wanting to get a little bit of his own back with Buck, but it was more about just plain old wanting now. But neither wanted to be the first to admit it and so their silent battle of wills continued as he began trailing soft kisses down the side of Chris's neck. He ran his hand down Chris's back, pulling him closer still. Chris thrust against him, a moan escaping, and then he pushed away, panting slightly.

Buck reached out and pulled the gunslinger close again. He bent his head to suck lightly at the gunslinger's nipples, while Chris ran his long fingers through Buck's hair and down his back. Buck wanted to hear Chris say his name again. Like he had that first night. He redoubled his efforts, running his hands down Chris's sides as he dropped to his knees.

"Say my name, Chris." Buck commanded. licking along the underside of Chris's cock. Chris shuddered. 

"Would that be 'demanding sonofabitch' or 'conceited bastard'?" Chris gasped.

"Say it." Buck wrapped his lips around Chris's cock, scraping his teeth gently along the delicate flesh. Chris let out a strangled cry.

"Buck, you bastard." he grated out.

Buck hummed in satisfaction and Chris bit off another moan. Buck dug his hands into Chris’s hips hard enough to leave bruises and dedicated himself to sucking every sound he could out of the gunslinger until Chris finally shuddered and pulled away. He stood there for a moment, breathing hard, while Buck knelt on the floor, watching him. 

"Fair's fair, Buck." Chris said softly, tugging the other man to his feet and pushing him back until his legs and hips rested against the table. Then Chris was on his knees and his mouth was on Buck’s cock and Buck was echoing every last sound Chris had just given him plus a few he was sure were new. He came with a choked cry, grasping a handful of Chris’s hair as he tried to pull away. Chris refused to let him go, the stubborn bastard, and swallowed slowly and deliberately, swiping a hand across his mouth afterwards.

“Chris.” The words were hardly more than a whisper.

"Chris." Buck tried again. "I'm offering."

The gunslinger rose slowly to his feet.

"You sure?" He asked, voice husky.

Buck nodded wordlessly, and Chris walked rather unsteadily over to the door where he picked up the saddlebag he'd dropped there earlier. He rummaged through it quickly and found a small bottle of saddle oil that he carried back over to the table where Buck was still waiting, leaning bonelessly against the edge.

Chris watched as Buck rolled over, leaning his upper body across the table. Chris flexed his fingers, trying to still their sudden shakiness. What the hell were they doing? But that thought was lost as he looked again at Buck. Chris wanted this. Buck wanted this. Who the hell cared why that was so? Chris coated his fingers with the oil and began spreading it over the length of his cock.

Buck hunched his back as he felt Chris press up behind him and Chris reached out, skimming one hand across his shoulders until they relaxed under his touch. 

“Just point it at the target and shoot straight, pard.” Buck mumbled, face pressed against the table, as Chris positioned himself. 

Chris snorted, his own shoulders relaxing. “Good thing for you _I_ can hit the broad side of a barn.

“Hey. You calling me fa…” the rest of his sentence faded into wordless sounds that eventually faded into silence as the two men slumped over the table, spent for the moment.

**********************************************

Chris raised his head slightly after he'd regained his breath, and looked at Buck. Now what? He had no idea what to say. Didn't have any idea what he _wanted_ to say.

Buck rolled over and just lay there sprawled on his back across the table, still breathing heavily. He stared back at Chris, the same look of confusion the gunslinger felt, mirrored in his eyes.

"So..." Chris began, when the silence dragged on.

"Yeah." Buck turned his head to look away from the gunslinger.

"You uh... you ok?" Chris asked, feeling ten kinds of a fool.

"Other than feeling like I got rode hard and put away wet, you mean?" Buck glanced at Chris, his smile rueful, and the beginnings of a familiar twinkle in his blue eyes.

Chris got up from the table and walked over to the small nightstand next to the bed. He picked up the pitcher on the nightstand and poured a bit of water onto a small cloth he removed from the drawer. "Here." He walked back and held out the small, wet cloth towards Buck. His own smile was a bit sheepish.

"Thanks, pard." Buck took the offering and sat up.

"So you think Ez has a chance of winning against those city slicker fellas from St. Louis? They looked like they might give him a run for his money at the poker tables." Buck asked, as he began dabbing at himself with the damp cloth.

"I reckon we should probably be there to make sure Ezra emerges intact. He does seem to have a way of finding trouble." Chris said dryly.

The two men finished getting cleaned up, arguing amiably about Ezra’s chances of winning and whose turn it was to relieve JD at the jail tomorrow. Buck picked up his pants and glanced at Chris who was hanging up the damp cloth to dry. 

“Little warm out to be sleeping in your clothes.” Chris said quietly, nodding towards the bedroom in clear invitation. Buck smiled and draped his pants across the back of a chair. Things might never be quite the same between them after this, but then, maybe the way life used to be wasn't always the right answer.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vin may have had his suspicions about what put that twinkle in Buck's eye and that spring in Chris's step, but he was wise enough not to ask any questions.

**Author's Note:**

> Buck and Chris have a complicated friendship I think. So why not add one more thing to the mix right? Anyway, I did write a short sequel which I will post as well. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading.


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